


Gregg Turkington and the Door to Door Cigarette Salesman

by YouCleanItUp



Category: On Cinema (Podcast)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25906942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouCleanItUp/pseuds/YouCleanItUp
Summary: Gregg Turkington's movie night is interrupted by a strange visitor named Neil Hamburger.
Kudos: 8





	Gregg Turkington and the Door to Door Cigarette Salesman

Gregg Turkington was relaxing on his sofa with a bowl of popcorn as he watched I.Q. (1994, 96 minutes) one fine evening. It was one of his favorite popcorn classics. He had almost made it halfway through the movie when the doorbell rang.

Pressing the pause button on his VCR's remote control, Gregg got up to see who was interrupting his valuable movie time.

As he opened the door, there was a man standing there he didn't recognize. He wore a black suit, had a greasy comb over, large glasses, and was cradling two drinks in his left elbow.

"Hello," the man said in a strange voice. "My name is Neeeeiiil Hamburger!" As he said this he bowed, causing the drinks to spill all over Gregg's welcome mat. "Goddamn it," Neil mumbled.

"My name is Gregg, what can I do for you?"

"I'm afraid due to the pandemic I've been forced to degrade myself by taking a job as a door to door salesman," Neil said. "That's why I'm here today to tell you about an exciting new product -- well, new to you at least -- Gay Cigarettes."

Neil pulled a pack of Gay Cigarettes out of his coat and shoved them in Gregg's face. "These cigarettes are no ordinary tobacco product. You'll experience pure joy and sexual satisfaction. It's like taking MDMA, Viagra, and Oxycodone all at the same time, but without most of the deadly side effects."

"I don't smoke," Gregg responded. 

"Well then start smoking today!" Neil snapped. "You'll never know the pleasures you're missing out on until you smoke Gay Cigarettes. If you buy two packs I'll throw in a third for free. That's a ten dollar value, and believe me you won't regret it. No one ever has regretted smoking Gay Cigarettes; quite the opposite. In fact if an asteroid slammed into the side of the planet tomorrow, killing everyone on the surface of the earth, your only regret would be not having smoked a single Gay Cigarette during your short, miserable life."

"No thank you," Gregg said. He wanted to politely decline so he could get back to the movie.

"Come on, do me a favor huh? All the comedy clubs are closed and this pathetic gig is the only way I can make rent. Please help me, America's number one funnyman, from becoming even more destitute than I already am."

"You're a comedian?" Gregg said, perplexed at this man didn't look anything like his comedy heroes such as Leslie Nielsen or Meg Ryan.

Neil cleared his throat. "Why did the leeegendary, leeeeeeeeegendary vocalist and dancer Michael Jackson have the size of his nose reduced so much?"

"Why?" Gregg asked.

"So he couldn't smell the dirty diapers of the little boys he was molesting."

Gregg sighed. He felt this joke was in particularly bad taste as he'd just watched Moonwalker (1988, 92 minutes) three nights ago. 

Neil continued. "What's the worst part, the WORST part, of an Eric Clapton concert?" 

"I don't know, what?"

"The music," Neil replied.

Gregg scratched his head. "Okay, I guess."

"Okay, how about this?" Neil asked. "What do you get when you lock The Red Hot Chili Peppers in a room overnight with a million dollars worth of heroin?"

"Just tell me," Gregg said, not that he particularly wanted to know the answer.

"Four dead overdose victims." Neil replied.

Gregg was growing increasingly annoyed, and his skepticism that this strange man was a comedian was growing by the minute. He really just wanted to get back to the movie.

"Is this really your best material?" Gregg inquired.

Neil whimpered. "Okay. What do you get when you cross the degenerate, diseased, despicable KISS frontman Gene Simmons with man's best friend, the humble dog?"

"I don't care," Gregg responded.

"An untalented clown who shits all over the sidewalk!" 

Gregg groaned. "I'm really more of a movie guy," he said, "I don't listen to music. And if you don't mind I'd like to get back to the movie I'm watching."

"What might that be," Neil asked, "one of the timeless classics from the good old days of Hollywood, like Gone with the Wind? Or some new garbage like the Transformers?"

"I'm watching I.Q." Gregg replied.

"I.Q. huh? I tell you that's something Jim Morrison from The Doors didn't have much of. Okay, how about a movie joke." Neil cleared his throat again. "Why... WHY did director James Cameron make the Na'vi people in Avatar look like stretched out Smurfs?"

"Why?" Gregg replied, excited that this joke might actually interest him.

"So he could jack off to it, that sick motherfucker."

"I don't think that's true," Gregg said. "And I know a lot about movies."

"It's a joke, you cocksucker," Neil responded. "Look, just buy a pack of these wonderful Gay Cigarettes and I'll leave you to finish your movie in your filthy mold-encrusted home. Just ten American dollars will get you a pack."

Gregg thought for a moment. "You know, I do have a friend who's into dangerous drugs, maybe I can get him hooked on these instead."

Ruffling through his wallet, Gregg pulled out two crumpled five dollar bills and handed them to Neil.

"Perfect," Neil said. "I'm sure your friend will enjoy them very much, as has everyone who's ever experienced the pleasure of smoking Gay Cigarettes." He handed Gregg a pack. "Enjoy your movie. Goodnight my friend, my name has been Neeeeeil Hamburger!" 

Neil bowed again, but this time there wasn't enough liquid left in his cups to spill anywhere. 

As Gregg closed the door, he made a mental note that he should get a peephole installed in the door before Neil Hamburger came around again so he wouldn't have to answer the door. With a sigh of relief he sat back down on the sofa and hit the play button on his VCR's remote control.


End file.
